Chapter 32 — Ink and Blood
Dominic stared at the letters in Ava's trembling hands, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
"What is this?" he asked, though his voice had already darkened—as if some part of him feared the answer.
Ava took a step closer, her voice cutting sharp. "They're letters. Dozens of them. Written by your mother. To someone she never thought I'd find. And you know what's funny, Dominic? They're about us. Our marriage. My mother. My past. She's been writing our truth like it's some twisted fairy tale."
Dominic's eyes flickered to the pages, and then to Ava's eyes. "Where did you find them?"
"In her study," Ava said, lifting her chin. "Tucked behind a portrait. Almost like she wanted me to find them."
Juliana's heels clicked against the marble as she entered from the hallway, her expression cool, composed—too composed.
"I see you've found my letters," she said calmly.
Ava turned on her. "You've been documenting my life like I'm a character in one of your stories. But why? What are you hiding, Juliana?"
Juliana didn't flinch. Instead, she walked to the armchair, sat, and crossed one leg over the other. "Because stories are the only way people listen. I knew Dominic wouldn't believe me. And you, Ava… You were too in love to see the knife at your back."
Dominic took a step forward. "What are you talking about?"
Juliana's gaze snapped to her son. "She's not who you think she is."
Ava's breath caught.
Juliana continued, her voice dropping like silk wrapped around steel. "I told you Clara was my sister. That part was true. But what I didn't say… is that she wasn't just your mother, Ava. She was Dominic's too."
The room tilted.
Dominic's face drained of color. "What?"
"You're lying," Ava breathed, stumbling back. "That's—no, that's not possible."
Juliana rose from her seat, eyes glinting. "It's the truth. Clara had an affair with my husband—Dominic's father. She left me with a broken marriage and ran off, pregnant. When she died, the child—you—was left behind. I knew the rumors, I followed the whispers. The timelines matched. I had the tests done… Ava, you and Dominic share the same father."
Dominic stared at her like she was a stranger. "You knew this… and still let us get married?"
Juliana looked at both of them—Ava, pale and shaking; Dominic, silent and shattered—and something in her expression twisted, almost triumphant.
"Sometimes," she said softly, "you have to let the truth destroy everything before it can build anything real."
Ava dropped the letters.
The room was suddenly too quiet, like the breath before a scream.
Because nothing—nothing—would ever be the same again.